


Tradition

by raja815



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Drunkenness, Friendship, Gen, Holiday, Humor, Party, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raja815/pseuds/raja815
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The commencement of a "traditional" Solstice celebration, as celebrated by Mustang and his associates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Written in December 2009 for for the prompt "pretentiousness and pomposity." Over the years I've compiled a ton of headcanon for the way Amestrians celebrate the Winter Solstice (most cultures have some kind of solstice celebration, so I assume Amestris is no different.) Since it was written during the time of the year when no one can escape the constant influence of every winter holiday known to mankind, I took the opportunity to unload some of it in fic form.

_'The Winter Solstice is a grand holiday, the highlight of the winter season. Typically, this holiday is celebrated with an overnight soiree in the company of one’s closest companions. '_

 

“Nah,” said Havoc, “the Colonel says we can’t have it at his place this year. We’ll have to do it at mine.”

“Why not?” Breda asked. “His place is the biggest. There’s no room for all six of us at yours.”

Havoc shrugged. “I dunno, he said something about how his welcome mat still smells like eggnog puke.”

“What a fucking prig.”

“I know, right?”

 

_'As the Winter Solstice is the longest night of the year, most parties begin at sunset and end at the next day’s sunrise. It is prudent to arrive well-rested and fresh, in order to see the evening through in good spirits.'_

 

“Absolutely not,” Hawkeye said. “Last year none of you limped into the office the next day before four PM. We’re calling it quits by two at the latest.”

The Colonel nodded. “Well said, Lieutenant. This is the military, not a dance hall.”

“When I said ‘none of you,’ I meant _none of you_ , Sir. _You_ didn’t show up the entire day.”

 

_'Dress primarily in shades of white for a solstice party; the pure color is a symbol of the pure and untainted year to come.'_

 

“Havo... Is that one of the Colonel’s dress shirts?”

“Well yeah; I only have the one and it has that big wine stain from last year… is this not okay?”

“It’s… fine.”

“Are you laughing?”

“…No.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, Heymans.”

“At least my nipples aren’t showing.”

 

_'Decoration for a Solstice party should incorporate evergreen plants, such as holly, ivy, and pine boughs. Their year-round freshness is symbolic of the rejuvenation of the seasons that this longest night marks.'_

 

Falman frowned. “Lieutenant Havoc, what’s hanging all over your living room?”

“Couple pounds of dried herbs. My aunt sent them.”

“Traditionally, one hangs evergreens and—”

“Where the fuck was I going to get holly and ivy in East City on my paycheck? At least this shit is green, right?”

 

_'Prominent among decorations include the traditional Solstice Candle, an ornately painted beeswax candle that is lit as the sun sets, and only extinguished when the next morning grows bright enough to see.'_

 

The entire room filled with noxious purple smoke. Mustang, standing closest after lighting it, extinguished the flame with a douse from his glass of wine.

“That,” he gasped when he had breath enough, “was not a solstice candle.”

“I think it might’ve been a signal flare,” Fuery said, timidly.

“Oh, _honestly…_ ”

“Man, why are you guys dumping all over my solstice party?” Havoc grumbled. “I’m doing the best I can here…”

 

_'The traditional Solstice feast is served exactly three hours after sunset, and includes roasted capon, spouts, gravy, brandy butter and fruit cakes…'_

 

Mustang grimaced. “Hot dogs, fried potatoes, and three bags of jelly donuts.”

 

_'…set off with the finest wines, in remembrance of the ancient festival of Brumalia, when new wine was first consumed.'_

 

Mustang quaffed the remains of his glass and poured a fresh one. “Apparently I didn’t start drinking enough at the start of the meal.”

 

_'It’s also common to partake of seasonal treats like roasted chestnuts and eggnog after the feast is over.'_

 

“No-no-no-no-no,” Mustang yelped as he caught sight of Havoc and Breda cracking eggs into the giant bowl of sweetened milk and brandy. “I can’t even stand the _smell_ of eggnog after last year, and if you think—” 

“Shut up, you know you love it. Sir.” Havoc added nutmeg and spooned a hearty swig into Mustang’s empty wine glass. “It’s not Solstice without eggnog.”

“It’s not Solstice without capon either, and I don’t hear any of you complaining.” Mustang grunted. But he sipped the glass nonetheless.

 

_'The singing of traditional songs generally fills the time after dinner.'_

 

“Ohhhh, the Fuhrer’s wife, well she was there, she had the hall in fits; jumping off the mantelpiece and bouncing off her tits. Singing, balls to your partner, ass against the wall…”

 

_'After singing, Solstice gifts are exchanged. Tradition calls for gifts made of metal, such as pewter, gold, or silver, to symbolize wishes of wealth and prosperity for the new year.’_

Mustang frowned. “Is this… a coffee mug you’ve painted silver?”

Havoc smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Should we all expect Solstice gifts of five-and-dime goods covered with metallic paint?”

Havoc glared and snatched the mug back. “You shouldn’t.”

 

_'The stroke of Midnight officially marks the start of the new year. Festive kisses are often exchanged between the men and women in attendance at this moment.'_

 

“You can all stop staring at me,” Hawkeye said, taking a dignified sip of her wine. “If you want Solstice kisses, you can invite dates.”

“No, no dates,” Mustang said, gulping down more eggnog. “It causes too many problems. Remember the year Havoc cried?”

Havoc flushed. “Oh, is that how we’re doing it? Come here and say that to my face, you son of a bitch—”

 

_'The exchange of Solstice kisses is often followed by dancing.'_

 

“Stop running, you prissy fuck!”

“Havoc, so help me, if you don’t leave off…”

“Should we stop them?” Fuery asked, looking timidly up at Hawkeye, who continued her measured sipping. “Someone could get hurt.”

“It’s no problem, Fuery,” she assured. “They do this every year. It’s tradition.”

 

_‘After dancing, it’s common to wind down with the recitation of stories from the past year, or resolutions for the new.’_

 

Mustang groaned, kneeling on the floor, clutching his stomach.

“Next year,” he panted, “let’s have this argument before the ten glasses of egg nog.”

Havoc, from a similar position, saluted. “Sounds fine to me, Sir.”

 

_'From there, enjoy the cozy hours remaining before sunlight before a warm fire with those closest to you.'_

 

“Well, I’m off,” Hawkeye said, collecting her coat and hat. “Thank Havoc for the party for me, once he’s done being sick.”

 

_'And remember to have a wonderful Solstice!'_


End file.
